


show of affection

by leafinsect



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Brainstorm makes shitty science puns at people he likes: the fanfic, Elegant Chaos spoilers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafinsect/pseuds/leafinsect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show of affection

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to read a noncanon pronoun edit, hop on over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5750431)!

“According to the second law of thermodynamics, you're supposed to share your hotness with me.”

Perceptor paused from his work to stare wordlessly at Brainstorm, sitting at the desk next to him. He was holding a stylus and his leg was crossed over the other, propped on the desk in nonchalant manner. 

Brainstorm reset his vocalizer after he felt the silence stretch on too long. “I said, ‘According to the second law of thermodynamics, you’re--’” 

“I heard what you said, thank you.” Perceptor was already looking back down at his desk, expression flat and uninterested. He let himself get engrossed in his project until Brainstorm decided to persist. 

“What, is that it? Doesn’t strike up conversation? No, ‘pick up lines are rude at best and creepy at worst?’” Brainstorm’s eyes looked like they were actively doing their best to hide the expression underneath his mask. The deception would’ve been effective, had Perceptor cared. “Because, well, you wouldn’t be wrong, technically--”

“I am otherwise preoccupied. I have the impression you should be as well,” he said coldly. Brainstorm shrugged. 

\--

“Everyone knows it’s not the size of the vector that matters, but the way the force is delivered.”

The sound of the datapad hitting Perceptor’s desk was loud enough to make Brainstorm think he threw it down with purposeful force. 

“Brainstorm. Is this really the time?” he said, whipping his helm around to scold his colleague. Perceptor’s tone was humorless--not so much harsh, but sharp. 

“Okay, first of all, when has that ever deterred me? I think any time is a perfect time for a science-y pickup line, especially when you got Arsenic and Sulfur that fine,” Brainstorm retorted, sounding more smug by the second. “Get it? ‘A-S’ and ‘S’? Ass?” 

He unwittingly took the opportunity to stare at the microscope’s eyepiece, watching the light in the new lab reflect off of it and show off the blue glow of his optic. The eye contact Brainstorm didn’t realize they were making irritated Perceptor further, earning him an outright scowl. He collected his work and briskly strode out of the room, only pausing to correct the jet: “That’s not how vectors work.” 

\--

“If I was an endoplasmic reticulum, how would you want me: smooth or rough?"

Perceptor didn’t have it in him to give a biting response. It was hard to decide what to blame his newfound softness on; the lack of urgency placed on his projects, the supposed end of the war, the overall atmosphere of The Lost Light, or growing used to Brainstorm’s incessant stream of embarrassing humor. 

He decided to lean over Brainstorm’s desk, getting close enough to feel the foreignness of Brainstorm’s EM field. “I want you… to fetch me a spanner from the supply cabinet to your left,” he said with a mocking slyness. 

Brainstorm was silent as he handed the tool to his lab partner. Any effect Perceptor had on him went unnoticed. 

“I’m surprised you know that much about cell structure. Researching organic biology? And, since this inevitably has to do with some new scheme of yours, for what?” Perceptor asked, as if it was small talk. 

There was a mischievous glint in Brainstorm’s optics as he answered. 

\--

Something changed in Perceptor. 

He wasn’t sure when, exactly. Even before Brainstorm’s motive was revealed, he didn’t hold back on calling the time cases, and by extension Brainstorm, genius. The change may have happened as Brainstorm was leaping through the past, or when the stars stopped and Perceptor stopped with them. 

Or maybe it happened when Brainstorm confessed he made jokes in the face of fear and anxiety. Perceptor knows the last straw was when the engineer defended himself in the face of the intimidation of authority that Perceptor had long been too hesitant to follow through against. His limbs had worked of their own accord to provide a standing ovation at the trial. 

The fondness felt like a weed that had sprung up inside his chest, foreign and carbon-based and teeming with life. The more he acknowledged it, the closer he got to realizing it was really a garden, dormant at first, then lovingly unmaintained and sustained all on its own. 

Currently, under Perceptor’s supervision, Brainstorm’s face was visible and set in practiced neutrality. It betrayed the excitable lilt his voice provided that Perceptor had grown used to. 

“Are you a second-generation, baryon number +1/3 particle, with an electric charge of -1/3? Because I’m feeling charmed, quark,” Perceptor attempted, miserably. Brainstorm looked up. Perceptor couldn’t bear to look at him. “Um, charmed by you, that is. You’re charming.” 

Brainstorm had the most emotional expression Perceptor had ever seen, first because the discovery of his face was recent, and--oh, the expression was sad. 

“Brainstorm? I’m sorry, are you alright? Is everything--” Perceptor feebly attempted to fix whatever he had done wrong. Brainstorm’s optics were fritzing, blowing a spark or two before he could properly get his feelings under control. Perceptor panicked until Brainstorm laughed, which quite frankly made him panic even worse. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, this is really silly honestly, you don’t even know,” Brainstorm smiled with little restraint. “You know why I went back in time? Originally?” 

\--

“So, you a top or a bottom kind of quark?” Brainstorm had asked, well over a million years ago. He caught Quark on his way out when he stopped at the door to adjust the stacks of reports in his arms. Brainstorm leaned on the doorway, looking down at the microscope with hopeful raised eyebrows. 

Quark had lost count of just how many horrible pickup lines the jet had thrown at him in the last century, but let his mouth break into a smile at what he would guess was number two hundred and forty six. 

“Congratulations, Brainstorm, that was actually slightly funny. Gold star,” he said, letting Brainstorm have his way for once. He gave a pitying glance that made Brainstorm’s spark whirl.


End file.
